The Workshop: Just call me Dusty Jeans

Last week, the very day the second and last “Ice Cream” birdhouse sold at The Red Roaster, a coffee shop regular asked me, “Do you have another one? With a Coke machine out front?”


“No,” I said. “But, guess what? I will soon.”




I should have two up and running by Monday. The birdhouses are now assembled, but a fair amount of ‘custom’ trim - and Coke machines - will have to be painted and attached.

(You know what ‘custom’ means, right? It means ca-ching! Papa gets to go for a motorcycle ride on the next warm day. Sorry, I digress).


["All photos by Dusty Jeans"]


So, I now have to brush the dust off my jeans, head down to the basement - potful of trim in hand - and tidy up my paint station before I mess it up again.

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Dusty Jeans. Has a nice ring to it.

“Dusty Jeans, mean machine, keeps turnin’ out the trim.”

Yeah, there should be a song about Dusty. Work on it. Get back to me.

Please click here for another visit to The Workshop.

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